


this must be the place

by waveydnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012 Era (Phandom), Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: dan and phil move to london





	this must be the place

**Author's Note:**

> for the pff summer _____ fest. my blank is 2012

The tiles on this bathroom floor are cold. Oh, oh so blissfully cold against Phil’s sweat-tacky skin. It feels bloody amazing.

It’s a big room too. Kind of like all the other rooms in this flat. His flat. Their flat. 

Their new flat in London. Oh god. London. They live in London now, officially. 

His head spins when he thinks about that, so he stops the thought in its tracks. 

Bathroom. Tiles. Nice cold bathroom tiles. He spreads his legs open and his arms out and just lies there, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling like a long pale starfish. 

His leg hurts where he’d fallen on it earlier. The floor in their new lounge was too slippery under his socks and his view obscured by the giant box of gaming stuff he’d had gripped in his fists.

Last time he checked he could already see the bruises forming, delicate splotches of blue blooming just beneath the surface of his skin.

They won’t be delicate later. They’ll be angry and painful. Dan will make fun of him, call him a peachy man and tell him he’s too clumsy for his own good, but he’ll also be as gentle and careful not to touch the sore spots as a person could possibly be. 

It’s not just the bruises that hurt right now though. It’s everything. Every single muscle in his body aches with the strain of driving across the country (kind of) and carrying approximately one hundred and thirty seven (not really) heavy boxes up about seventeen (almost) flights of stairs. 

He’s being dramatic, even inside his own head, but the effort of moving house this time around feels very dramatic. He’s absolutely miserable, and to top it all off it’s the hottest day he can remember in ages. His hair is still damp at the root, the elastic waistband of his boxers moist and itchy on his hips.

The rest of his clothes lie in an abandoned heap in the hallway. His parents have finally gone and it’s just him and Dan here now, so goddamnit he can be naked if he wants to. Naked and sweaty and sore and sprawled out on his nice cold bathroom tiles. The thought of having to get up and start unpacking boxes in the stagnant swelter of heat in this un-air conditioned flat makes him feel physically ill.

It’s just— it’s a lot, and not just because of the manual labour involved. 

“Phil.”

Dan is calling him from somewhere far away, maybe even down a set of stairs or two. There are far too many stairs in this apartment. 

He doesn’t answer right away. Dan probably wants help with something and Phil is simply not ready to be anything other than a lump of overworked flesh on the floor. 

“Phil!” His voice is louder and closer now.

Phil just grunts.

Dan appears in the doorway, red faced and huffing, fringe curling against the sweat on his forehead. “What the fuck,” he mutters. 

“I’m hot,” is Phil’s succinct explanation. “Everything hurts.”

Dan tilts his head and looks at him like he’s an alien. Not an altogether uncommon occurrence between the two of them. Phil does kind of act like one a lot of the time, to be fair. 

“The tiles are cold,” Phil says.

Dan looks at him a little while longer before pulling off his t-shirt and stepping out of his shorts. “Move over,” he says and lies down next to Phil. 

Phil has to un-starfish himself a little, but it’s worth it. He feels just a fraction less despair knowing he’s not alone.

“There are too many stairs,” Dan murmurs. 

“Yeah. Way too many. Why did we think that was a good idea?”

“I had to actually use my arm muscles today.”

“And legs,” Phil points out. 

“How do we have so many boxes?” Dan asks. “We don’t even have any stuff.”

Phil snorts. “We have stuff. We just don’t have any useful stuff.”

They both fall quiet after that. Phil can’t speak to what’s going on inside Dan’s head, but he imagines it’s not dissimilar to the thoughts swimming through his own. Excitement and hope and fear all tangled together in a confusing jumble of emotions. 

In this moment Phil’s throat feels tight and his heart is starting to race. He misses Manchester already. He misses the balcony and their view of Strangeways and their tiny little kitchen and their lift with the stupid posh voice. 

It’s not that he’s not excited for this new chapter. It’s not that at all. It’s just that being here, physically being here now in this new place in the biggest city in the country makes it all real. Just so unflinchingly real, whether they’re actually ready or not. 

He doesn’t even know if they’re ready.

He reaches his hand out across the cool tile in search of warmth and skin, closing his fingers around Dan’s when he finds them.

“Are we making a mistake?” he half whispers. 

Dan’s answer is immediate. “No.”

It’s a comfort to Phil, even if he knows it’s at least half bravado and youthful naivety. Dan agonizes over making decisions, but once they’re made he’ll see them through with a conviction that borders on fanatical. 

“We don’t even have furniture.”

“We’ll get some,” Dan says. “We have enough to get by for now.”

“We have no money.”

Dan turns his head in Phil’s direction and waits for him to look back before saying. “We have some money. And soon we’ll be working at the BBC. Fucking BBC, Phil.”

“But what if… what if it doesn’t work out?”

Dan squeezes Phil’s hand. “It will.”

Phil can’t help smiling, the brick sitting heavy on his chest lifting his a little. Dan doesn’t know any more than Phil does, in fact he probably knows less, but it’s still comforting to hear the words spoken with such sincerity. 

“Since when are you an optimist?” he murmurs. 

“We’ve already had all these conversations, Phil. We already decided.”

“I know.”

“We decided to be brave.”

Phil sighs quietly. “I think I’m forgetting how to do that.”

“Just— don’t freak out.”

“But what if—”

“If anything,” Dan interrupts. “We’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”

Phil chuckles. It’s stupid but he already feels better. In his head anyway. His legs still hurt like hell and he feels utterly drained by the heat and exertion of the day. But his fingers intertwined with Dan’s are grounding, reminding him that he already has what really matters.

Because the truth is, though simplified in the extreme, Dan’s words are true. They always figure it out in the end. So often things are messy and complicated and not at all how Phil would have dreamed them to be, but they always make this part work, the part where they’re sharing their lives with each other. Their life.

“Are you scared though?” Phil asks.

“I’m fucking terrified,” Dan answers.

For some reason that makes Phil feel better too. “I’m still hot,” he says, because he’s done catastrophizing. “It’s too hot today.”

Dan lets go of Phil’s hand and rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at Phil. Phil looks up and gets lost for a minute, in dark eyes and straightened hair curling at the tips and a long long neck that he wants to kiss. 

Dan smiles. “We could shower.”

“Too lazy,” Phil says. “My legs are broken.”

“I’ll hold you up.”

How odd. Usually it’s Phil who feels like the holder. “I’m heavy,” he warns, as if Dan doesn’t already know him inside and out.

“I’m strong.”

Phil could cry. This is the essence of his Dan. Soft and fragile and too sensitive for the world, but an immovable pillar in the moments Phil needs him to be.

Dan stands up and reaches down to help Phil do the same. Phil pulls off his underwear as Dan starts the water running.

“Make it cold,” Phil says. Dan crinkles his nose up but doesn’t argue.

Phil comes up behind him and pulls his boxers down too. He leans his chest into Dan’s back and presses his face into Dan’s neck and kisses where it tastes like salt. 

They’re both half hard by the time they step into the cool stream, but they’re not going to do anything about it right now. Dan holds Phil up like he promised he would, washing Phil’s hair and running soapy hands over every inch of his tired body. 

They don’t do any more work today. The only things that get unpacked are the things they can’t do without. Dan orders pizza and they eat it sat on the floor surrounded by boxes. Dan lets his hair go curly and Phil pushes his back into a sort of quiff above his forehead.

They go to bed early and make up the time by having the kind of sex they’ll be happy to remember as their first in their new home in London. Dan is gentle like Phil knew he would be, but Phil wraps his legs around Dan’s waist and pulls him in closer, deeper, whispers in Dan’s ear for more, harder, faster. He’ll be even more sore in the morning but some things are worth a little bit of pain. 

Phil walks over to the window after, naked as the day he was born and opens it to feel warm breeze blow over skin that’s tacky with sweat again. He looks out over their view of the city and lets the fear and exhilaration wash over him in equal measure. This is home now. It looks different but in a way it feels the same.

“Come back to bed,” Dan says, and Phil does, fitting himself into all the places Dan’s body gives.

It _is_ different, but in all the ways that matter, everything really is the same.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi and maybe [reblog on tumblr](https://waveydnp.tumblr.com/post/176157626327/this-must-be-the-place) @waveydnp :)


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